Love to Hold a Family Together

Chapter 1: The Burial

The Weasley family stood together over a fresh grave behind a huge manor. Molly was leaning heavily onto her husband who had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Ginny stood next to her mother on the other side and rubbed her cheek against her mother's shoulder. Red-haired boys of various ages stood behind and next to them. All the Weasleys had come to pay their last respects to a man they had never really known but always missed in their lives.

Opposite the united family stood the reverend holding the sermon and offered his sincere sympathy to the widow. Every few words she would nod but, truth be told, she wasn't paying attention to his words, didn't even hear them. Her eyes were fixed on her daughter's face. Molly had every right to hate her father and surely she had wished for her father's death more than once in the past 27 years. Yet here she stood at his grave, mourning a man she had never understood, had never seen eye to eye, had never really loved.

Ginevra was furious beyond everything else she should feel at her husband's funeral. How dare her daughter show up at his funeral? What possessed her to pretend to mourn? This false show of sympathy was unwanted and unwelcome. It was not how that sort of thing was done in this family. She should know that since she once had been a part of said family.

Molly was highly aware of her mother's eyes on her. She had debated the wisdom of coming to her father's funeral. Finally Bill had taken her hand and said gravely, "If you want to go, you should. He was your father, no matter how far you grew apart over the years. You might not think so now but I know that one day you'll feel sorry if you don't go." Her children had all decided to go and be there for their grandmother. Molly had only caught up to her family seconds before they apparated to Prewett Manor.

The moment her feet had touched the earth again, she had been drowned in memories. Nothing had really changed since her childhood. There was the old oak tree to which Gideon and Fabian had tied her and then had played Indians and cowboys. Further into the garden the blue of the pond had glittered in the sunlight. She had heard her own laughter joining her brothers' as they ran towards it, shedding their clothes as they ran and plunging into its cool water. Turning slightly, she had faced the house and had heard clear as day her voice, raised in anger, yelling at her mother to let her go, that she was engaged with Arthur and that she would rather die than marry Lucius Malfoy. She could hear her father's raucous voice calling out to her mother to discipline 'these little heathens' she had born so that he could have some peace to work. She saw herself hiding under beds and sofas from her mother's wrath and cringing away whenever she heard her father approaching.

Arthur had been right there next to her though and her father's voice was just a memory now. He would never again yell at her. For the first time the awareness of his death really had hit her and she had staggered against Arthur. He had caught her with his arms around her waist and reassuring words running over her like water, soothing only a little. Blindly she had grabbed at him. "My dad is dead ... my daddy is gone ... Oh God, Arthur, my daddy is gone and won't come back," she had moaned in despair. Then her legs had given way under her and she would have fallen if Arthur hadn't held her up and then put his other arm behind her knees, lifting her clear off her feet. She had sobbed into his shoulder.

Now she stood opposite her mother and saw the same hostility in her eyes she had seen the last time they had met. The kinder, apologetic look she had exhibited at Bill's wedding was gone. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears over her husband's death, anger over Molly's being at the funeral and jealousy.

For the first time in her life Molly realized how lonely her mother's life was. She had lost all of her three children in one way or another. Her sons had been killed by death-eaters. Her daughter had left the family to marry a man her parents thought beneath her station at the tender age of 17. And now her husband had been killed only a week ago by death-eaters in order to defend said daughter.

Ginevra was alone with nobody left to her except a daughter who wasn't speaking to her.

Molly's heart ached for Ginevra and she could, again for the first time in her life, understand some of her mother's disappointment and anger with her. She had everything her mother ever wanted in life. Molly's life was rich with laughter, joy, love and friendship, she had seven wonderful children and a husband she truly loved and who loved her in return. Molly was so richly blessed ... and her mother had nothing left anymore other than a big, empty house full of painful memories, both for her and her mother.

Slowly she walked over to her mother and took her hand gently between her own. Ginevra didn't turn around but kept staring into her husband's grave.

"Mum," Molly began, "I wanted to talk to you since Bill's wedding but you left so soon after Dad's death and you haven't answered any of my owls ..."

"Yes, owls. That's all you send. Never once did you come here and talk to me ... you shut your father and me completely out of your life!"

"You wanted to control me, sell me to the highest bidder! Did you actually answer any of my letters? Did you? What happened to them then? Got lost in a storm?" Now Molly was as angry as her mother. Both witches had a fiery temper which flared easily. But Molly didn't want to fight with her mother now. Too many years have already been lost because of their stupid pride and their inability to forgive. "Never mind, mother. I didn't come here today to fight. As a matter of fact I never wanted to."

Ginevra stared at her daughter, wide-eyed and disbelieving. She didn't want to get her hopes up and then be disappointed and rejected again. Carefully hiding her gaze behind a polite mask, she looked into her daughter's eyes. Molly's weren't masked and Ginevra saw clearly how affected her child was by the loss of her father, how much she really wanted a relationship with her and how much she feared being rejected herself. Tenderness washed over her heart and Ginevra gently cupped Molly's cheek with her hand. "You're right, Molly, always were. We spent too much time fighting already. Will you visit me some time?" she asked carefully, still not trusting herself and her daughter.

"No, mother," Molly said softly and noticed her mother's face fall and figure slump. All strength seemed to desert this usually so stern, confident woman. "I won't visit because I want you to come and live with us ... until the war is over ... only if you want to ... I won't think less if you don't ..."

"Kindly do stop babbling, Molly. That is not very becoming ... I told you so many times," Ginevra scolded quietly but with a definite glint in her eyes. She was just teasing her daughter this time.

Molly was very surprised about this lighter side of her mother. Slowly and still cautiously an answering smile spread over her face.

"So you'll stay with us?" she asked.

"I would be honoured to."